A BLUNDER AND WHAT CAME OF IT
As if a weight had been removed from his soul Walter moved away. The
whole world had suddenly become a different place. Although the
calamity of Lola's disappearance was none the less distressing at
least on his own particular horizon there no longer loomed the spectre
of discharge and all the disgrace that accompanied it. He could have
tossed his cap into the air for very joy and gratitude. In his relief
he was bursting to talk to somebody, and as he had permission to use
the telephone in order to keep in touch with his family it occurred to
him that now was the moment to call up Bob and impart the exciting
tidings of the afternoon. Bob was always off duty at this hour and if
he had the good luck to find him at the station just the sound of his
voice would be infinitely comforting.
Hastening in the side door he glanced into the wee telephone closet.
No one was there, and he took down the receiver and called the Seaver
Bay station. In another instant Bob's _Hello_ came cheerily over the
wire.
"It's Walter, Bob."
"Anything the matter, kid?"
"N--o. Yes. That is, something _was_ the matter but it is all over
now. I just wanted to talk to you."
"Well, fire ahead. What do you want to say?"
"Oh, a lot. I hardly know how to start." The boy laughed nervously.
"You're not sick?"
"Oh, no."
"Well, we can't hold this line forever, son, so break away and tell
your tale as fast as you can."
"I'll try to, Bob."
Incoherently the lad poured out his story. Once launched it came
readily from his tongue and he continued to the end of it without
interruption from his distant listener. When, however, he had
finished, Bob's crisp tones came singing over the wire:
"You went out to walk about three, you say?"
"Yes."
"And returned?"
"It must have been half-past four or five, I guess."
"And there was nobody about the place all that time?"
"The men were all busy somewhere else. Strangely enough even Jerry,
who usually is on deck, had a telephone call and had to go up to the
big house."
"Oh, he did!"
"Yes. It was funny, too, because it was somebody he didn't know at all
and he couldn't find out what the fellow wanted."
"What's that?" The interrogation was sharp and tense.
"Jerry just said it was some man up in Brockton whom he didn't know
and as he couldn't make head nor tail out of the message he hung up
the receiver. Nobody ever telephones to Jerry. It was queer they
should do it to-day, wasn't it?"
"Very. Did you tell Mr. Crowninshield about it?"
"Oh, no, indeed. He was too busy about Lola to think of anything
else."
"Nevertheless, I would tell him."
"What for? It wouldn't interest him."
"I think it might--a good deal. You tell him. Do you know whether he
has done anything yet or not?"
"No, I don't. I didn't dare ask him what he was going to do."
"I suppose not. Well, I'm glad you got out of this snarl so well, kid.
It's a pity they've lost the dog. You take mighty good care of the
rest of the pups and don't let any more of them disappear."
"I'll try. And Bob----"
"I can't stop to talk any longer now, old chap. So long! If they get a
line on the thief you might ring me up again. I shall be interested.
Good-by."
"Good-by, Bob."
How fair Bob always was, reflected the boy, as he emerged into the
open and made his way back to the kennels. Some brothers would
probably have blurted out, "That's you all over!" or "Trust you to get
into a mess!" But Bob never enjoyed seeing somebody else miserable.
Instead he always tried to make everybody's troubles smaller than they
really were. One could confess one's sins to Bob, knowing that he
would be merciful.
So thought Walter as he sped down the gravel path to greet the
clamoring pack of animals that hungrily awaited his coming.
"Well, old sports!" called he as he turned the key in the lock, "I
guess you are ready for your supper. Wondering where your boss was,
eh? I'm not very late. Only a quarter of an hour. It isn't late enough
to warrant your making such a fuss. Down, Achilles! What's the matter
with you? Anybody'd think you were crazy to see you jumping up and
whining this way. What's got you, old man? Down, I say!"
He pushed the dog from him and started to enter the room where the
food was kept; but again Achilles was in his path.
"Get out of my way, you beggar!" smiled Walter, playfully attempting
to shake the creature off. "What is it? Are you clean starved? If you
are you must stand out of the way so I can get you something to eat."
But the dog refused to move.
Planting himself squarely in the lad's pathway he began to bark
furiously.
Then he raced to the gate, sniffed, and struggled to get out.
"What on earth has struck you, you giant?" inquired Walter, regarding
the great creature in bewilderment. "Don't you want your dinner?"
It was plain in an instant that no matter what the lure of a bone
might ordinarily be to-day, it held no charms for the big police dog.
He had one wish and only one, and that was to be released from the
wire enclosure in which he was penned and left free to follow some
plan of his own which evidently absorbed him. So insistent was his
demand that it was not to be denied and Walter slipped the bolt and
allowed him to race away. Then the boy turned his attention to feeding
the other dogs.
"Achilles probably has a bone buried somewhere," he muttered to
himself, "and is going to dig it up. Just why he prefers stale food to
fresh I can't see; but apparently he does."
Nevertheless His Highness had scarcely finished giving the dogs their
dinner before Achilles was back again, and with no bone, either. On
the contrary he was hot, breathless, and panting from what had
obviously been a long run through the woods. Pine needles clinging to
his furry coat attested that he had been over in the grove that
flanked the estate on the west.
"Couldn't find your hidden treasure, eh, old boy?" commented Walter.
"Gone, was it? Some other dog taken it?"
But Achilles failed to accept the jest with the cordiality such jokes
commonly evoked. He neither wagged his tail nor stretched his jaws
into a grin. Instead he began to yelp and bound back and forth upon
the lawn.
"You act possessed. What on earth is the matter?" asked the boy,
coming toward the gate and starting to open it.
No sooner was his hand on the latch, however, than the Belgian raced
up with sharp barks of delight.
"Want me to come out, do you? Got something to show me?"
Again Achilles barked joyfully.
"Aren't you the tyrant, though?" remarked Walter. "I've just been to
walk and am tired as the deuce. What do I wish to go tramping over the
country again for?"
Nevertheless, despite his grudging protest, nothing else would satisfy
the dog and at length, curious to see what caused the creature's
excitement, he slipped the lock and stepped outside on to the turf.
Instantly an exultant bark came from Achilles and he dashed away, only
to return and take the lead through the woods, his nose to the ground
and his ears erect. The boy followed. It was a race to keep up with
the rapidly running vanguard. Now the chase skirted the lawn, now
dipped into the pine woods. On and on went the dog, and in pursuit of
him on and on went Walter.
They floundered along the slippery matting of copper, stumbling this
way and that, and presently emerged where the land dropped down to the
shore. The lad paused. He had no mind to scramble through the tall
salt grass or sink ankle deep in the stretch of sand that adjoined it.
But Achilles compelled. It was now no longer a matter of choice. The
beast approached and catching the corner of the lad's sweater in his
mouth tugged at it resolutely, even angrily.
Walter dared not resist. He let himself down over the edge of the bank
into the sharp-edged grass, and wading through it reached the sand.
Here Achilles halted. The end of their pilgrimage had, then, been
reached. What was it all about? For a moment dog and man faced one
another. Then, glancing about, His Highness gave a little cry. There
were footprints in the sand,--deep footprints that the moisture had
kept indelible. A train of them came and went toward a ribbon of
automobile tracks that narrowed away up the beach and were finally
lost in the confusion of a much traveled wood road.
Walter's heart leaped within him as the significance of the discovery
rose before his imagination. This was the way Lola had gone.
A thief, familiar with the country and knowing the isolation of this
sequestered cove, had driven through the wood road, left the car
behind the dunes, and skulking through the woods, had successfully
carried out a daring robbery. Perhaps he had been lingering concealed
about the gardens all day or even many days. Who could tell? At any
rate, he had chosen a propitious moment, provided himself with a
skeleton key, and carried Lola away in the waiting motor car. Where
they were now, who could tell? A car travels fast and a long distance
could be covered in the two hours that had elapsed. Certainly no more
time must be wasted.
With Achilles leaping before him Walter raced back to Surfside. Mr.
Crowninshield, irritable and excited, was just coming out of the
house.
"May I speak to you a moment, sir?" panted the boy.
"Yes, if it is important. I'm in a rush so do not delay me."
"But it's about Lola."
"Lola! Go ahead, then, if you have anything to say."
The lad told his story.
"Ha! Well done, Achilles!" exclaimed the financier when the tale was
told. "Well done, old fellow! And well done you too, little shaver!
Between you you have given us a big boost toward catching the thief.
Now just one thing, sonny. I meant to caution you before you left but
forgot it. You are not to speak of this affair to any one--not to any
one at all. Do you understand? A false move on our part might undo
everything and ruin our cause. Nobody is going to be caught red-handed
with that dog in his possession. Rather than be trapped he would kill
her. We mustn't let that happen. We shall follow up our man quietly
without letting him suspect that he is being watched. That is the only
way we can hope to get the pup back again. So mind you hold your
tongue. Not a word to anybody on your life. Not a syllable. Be dumb as
the grave and let me see how capable you are of keeping your own
counsel. The trouble with most people is they blab everything. They
can't wait to tell it. Let anything happen and they are off to confide
it to some one before you can say Jack Robinson. Now don't you do
that--at least not this time. Hold your tongue. This isn't your
secret; it's mine."
In terror Walter hung his head. Should he confess that he had already
telephoned Bob or should he keep silent.
Of course Bob wouldn't tell. There wouldn't be anybody to tell way off
there at Seaver Bay. Besides, he himself could ring him up and caution
him not to. Why need Mr. Crowninshield know anything about it?
But suppose Bob had told already and harm was done? Certainly it would
be more honest to speak.
The boy took a big swallow.
"I'm afraid, sir, that I have already told some one," he blurted out
miserably. "I didn't know it would do any harm and so I called up my
brother and----"
"You young idiot!" burst out Mr. Crowninshield indignantly. "Why in
thunder couldn't you keep still? We're in a nice mess now! If the
story gets about and the police start to track down the thief it is
good-by to Lola. Why did you have to run hot-footed to the telephone
the first thing? Jove!"
"I'm very sorry, sir. I had no idea it would do any harm."
"But you have an idea of it now, haven't you?" inquired the master
grimly.
"Yes. I see what you mean."
Mr. Crowninshield heaved an exasperated sigh.
"The game's up now, I guess," he muttered.
"But my brother lives off by himself in a very lonely place," the lad
explained desperately. "Just he and another fellow have a house out on
a point of land a long way off from everywhere. They couldn't tell
anybody about Lola if they wanted to, especially if I call them right
up and ask them not to."
"Where is it?"
"Seaver Bay."
"Never heard of it--or, stop a minute, isn't there a wireless station
there or something?"
"Yes, sir. My brother----"
"Well, no matter about your brother now. You go into the house and
call him up. When you get the line let me know and I will speak with
him."
"Yes, sir." Nevertheless the lad lingered. "I'm--I'm awfully sorry,"
repeated he.
"There, there, go along. You meant no harm. You just blundered. But
blunders are expensive things sometimes and this one may prove so
unless we can prevent it."
Still His Highness did not go.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked his employer impatiently.
"My brother told me to tell you that Jerry had a telephone message
this afternoon."
"A telephone message? What has that got to do with it?" burst out Mr.
Crowninshield at the end of his patience.
"I don't know. Bob just said to tell you."
"Go ahead then."
Hurriedly the boy related the facts of the mysterious communication.
"So! Your brother has some brains if you haven't," said Mr.
Crowninshield on hearing the story, and Walter saw him smile. "That
was neat of them, very! They took the precaution to get Jerry, who is
unfailingly about, out of the way."
"They?"
"The thieves, youngster. It was a Brockton call, you say."
"That was what Jerry told me."
"Good! That gives us another clue."
It was evident the information had put the master in rare good humor.
"Trot along, now, and call up this brother of yours. I shall be glad
to talk with him, for he sounds as if he might be worth talking to. As
for you, son, cheer up! No milk is spilled yet and perhaps it won't be
if you have as wise a big brother as it appears. I might never have
known of Jerry's message but for him. Jerry himself would not have
placed enough importance on it to tell me, I am sure--or you, either,
for that matter. So perhaps, after all, you did a good thing to enlist
your brother in our behalf."
"I hope so, sir. I meant no harm; really I didn't."
"There, there, don't think of it again," said Mr. Crowninshield
kindly. "I should have remembered you are not a man's age and cannot
be expected to have the judgment that goes with fifty or sixty years
of living. Even old codgers like myself blunder sometimes."
His eyes twinkled and in the radiance of his smile Walter saw the last
cloud of wrath roll from his brow. Truly, as Jerry had affirmed, Mr.
Crowninshield's rages were like thunderstorms--awesome while they
lasted but unfailingly followed by sunshine.